


You feel like Brooklyn in the summer

by brxveSam



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Boys In Love, Bucky Barnes is an idiot, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Steve is a little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 05:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brxveSam/pseuds/brxveSam
Summary: Brooklyn in the summer was a nightmare. Heat was pressing down onto the city, making everyone dread the slightest movements. It was a sticky, wet heat as opposed to a dry one.So on days like this, when Bucky had one of his rare days off, they were both sprawled across the floor, wearing as little clothing as possible and not moving unless it was absolutely necessary.





	You feel like Brooklyn in the summer

**Author's Note:**

> uhmm so i don't know if anybody cares but.. hi. I'm still alive. Hope you enjoy this little just for once not painful thing:)  
> thanks Suzi for proof reading xx @onlyangelbucky

Brooklyn in the summer was a nightmare. Heat was pressing down onto the city, making everyone dread the slightest movements. It was a sticky, wet heat as opposed to a dry one.  
The air was like a wall you were hitting every time you tried to move. It was better than winter, but not by much. At least he didn’t have to worry about Steve getting sick, but the dripping humid air didn’t make it easy for him to breathe. Their shitty apartment wasn’t helping either. It was so small, it kept all the heat in and didn’t allow for any kind of air flow.

So on days like this, when Bucky had one of his rare days off, they were both sprawled across the floor, wearing as little clothing as possible and not moving unless it was absolutely necessary.

Steve was lying on his stomach with only his pants, sketching away and looking totally lost in his craft. Bucky was propped up against the wall, watching Steve. In the same way Steve was focused on his newest drawing, Bucky was completely enthralled by watching Steve. How his feet were aimlessly kicking in the air. How his entire torso was nearly glowing, a sheen of sweat illuminated by the high afternoon sun creeping through their crappy blinds. He looked beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. There was no other way of saying it. He was clearly completely transfixed on his drawing, brows knitted tightly together in concentration. It was a rare sight, seeing Steve so peaceful. It made something turn in Bucky’s heart. Steve should always look like this. Drawing without having to care about his health, money and their all-around shitty life. He imagines what an alternative universe might look like. Steve going to art school, actually making a living with the amazing things he creates. Bucky would get a degree in engineering or something. They would share a flat, have jobs on the side that won’t work them down to their bones. They would probably be stressing about exams instead of how to scrape together money for the too little food they then had to share. Steve would still have health problems, but they could afford meds and more food. Get a little bit of weight onto him.

Bucky gets lost in his daydreaming. Dreaming of a different, better world. Maybe someday, he thinks. Maybe they’ll be able to afford a decent apartment and a decent amount of food. But he remembers that “someday,” however far in the future that might be, will probably include wives, include kids and include living separately. Which makes Bucky’s stomach turn. He tries not to think about it too often. But it can’t be avoided. They’re men in their twenties and sooner rather than later it’s gonna be inappropriate to still live together as friends. Friends, he scoffs internally. The time when his feeling for Steve were purely friendly are long gone. But it’s not like he can just say something about it. Snapping out of his day dream, he notices that Steve is looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

“You thinking hard there, pal? Don’t strain yourself,” Steve says with a smirk on his lips.

“Oh shut up, punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve returns, fondly. But Bucky might be making that up, who knows.

Apparently satisfied, Steve goes back to drawing. Feet aimlessly kicking around again, brow furrowed. Bucky wishes he could draw. Just capture this moment. Capture Steve’s beauty and show it to the whole world until every single person sees him. Appreciates how breathtakingly gorgeous his Stevie is instead of not looking at him twice like everyone does now. His Stevie. Huh. But he isn’t his. That’s the problem, Bucky realizes. As much as he wants the women he always arranges double dates with to actually see Steve, if they actually did, Bucky would probably be fuming. Thinking back to the very rare occasions one of the ladies did dance with Steve, he distinctly remembers a weird, bitter feeling low in his gut. Had that been jealousy? Shit. Shit shit shit shit. Bucky is so fucked. He is so gone for this guy.

He’s starting to break out into a cold sweat. Not sweat from the disgusting heat, no. This is panic. He’s so utterly fucked. He lives with the guy and apparently he’s in love with him. Great, Bucky. Wonderful. Why is he having this realization just now? Oh yeah, probably the huge shit-pile of homophobia that lays on the entire fucking world. He shouldn’t feel like this, it’s not natural, bla bla bla. He never really gave a shit about it, but it does implement itself into your brain if you grow up like that. Okay, now that’s another big reason Steve can never find out about this. Steve is really religious. Like, really really. He probably thinks it’s a sin and that Bucky will burn in hell for what he’s feeling. He would never want Steve to think like that about him. To think less of him. Nope. Never gonna happen.

And then Steve looks up at him, pencil tapping his bottom lip, ocean blue eyes intently focused on Bucky, little smile on his lips.

And that’s it. It’s over for Bucky.

“I... I think I love you?”

“You think? Told you not to strain yourself.” 

With that Steve gets up, walks the two steps over to Bucky and promptly plants himself right in Bucky’s lap. Bucky can only stare, too dumbfounded to do anything else. With Steve in his lap, they’re at eyelevel. And Steve is very obviously eyeing his mouth. Is this really happening or is he still daydreaming? That thought quickly gets shoved to the side when he can feel Steve cupping his jaw with both hands, thumbs stroking his cheekbones. Bucky can only blink at him.

“You gonna do anything about it?”

Bucky’s mouth falls open. His stupid punk of a best friend. Steve looks absolutely smitten. Like he knew what Bucky was thinking about this whole time, and was just waiting for Bucky to finally get it. Big blue eyes staring right into his soul, cocky grin still in place. And Bucky tries to say something, he really does, but it’s hard to think clear when the guy he’s apparently been in love with for a long time is still holding his face and is staring him down. He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, trying to start a sentence, but nothing really comes out.

Steve must’ve been getting impatient because after Bucky tries to speak for the fifth time, he just makes an annoyed sound and plants his lips right on Bucky’s. Everything remotely coherent that was still left in Bucky’s brain gets shut down real quick, because wow, Steve is really kissing him. This is real. Not one of his many daydreams. His hands start to catch up with what’s happening and he puts them on Steve’s hips. He can feel Steve solid and a little sweaty. But so so real. He lets his hands roam up Steve’s back and realizes that oh, they’re both not wearing shirts. That thought releases a little involuntary sound in the back of his throat. Steve gets on board with it fast and presses closer. Chest to chest. It’s like the little shit has been planning this whole ordeal for a long time. Bucky is so gonna ask him about that later but right now he’s getting lost in the feel of Steve’s skin against his hands and the drag of Steve’s lips against his own, so he can’t really be bothered to be anything but utterly happy.


End file.
